AB Negative
by sangre antigua
Summary: AU Eric goes to Colorado to aid a powerful vampire. While he's there, he stays in a hotel and meets a feeder. Eric/Original Male Character SLASH .
1. Chapter 1

**Author:** sangre antigua/TR4G1C [old penname].

**Rating; Title; Pairing:** M; AB-; Eric Northman/Original Male Character.

**Summary:** AU Eric goes to Colorado to aid a powerful vampire. While he's there, he stays in a hotel and meets a feeder. Eric/Original Male Character SLASH .

**Warning/Disclaimer:** I do not own Eric Northman/anything about True Blood. The plot/original male character is/are mine, though, so, yeah. Also, if you don't know what AU means, it's alternate universe. So...this never happened in the book/TV show.

- - -

The flight had been longer than expected and Eric was growing irritated. As he waited for the help to lower the stairway and secure everything, he tapped his foot and bit his tongue. The pilot had said it would take three to four hours to land in Denver, Colorado, but it had stormed somewhere in Texas and they had to land. Eric didn't mind Texas. It was actually home to his maker, Godric, and he had had some..."fond" memories of being there. But he was on a schedule and was losing time. He needed to get to Colorado, deal with some V business and get back to Louisiana before too long. Who knew what was going to happen in his absence? The people of Bon Temps weren't the type to sit on their thumbs and loll around all day. Someone would do something stupid and lose their head.

And Eric wanted to be there for it.

That, and the idea of sleeping on a plane wasn't too amusing to the vampire.

The blond checked his watch every couple seconds, anxious to see the time and gauge how long he had until the sun would rise. If the help would hurry and lower the stairs, he could just take one large mouthful of air and give a rough estimate of what time it was, and when the sun would rise.

"Could you move any slower?" he asked gruffly, his eyes coldly taking in the back of the male's skull. The help was stocky and his hair had been buzzed recently. Knots and scars were scattered over the surface of his skull. Either this mortal got his ass handed to him often, or he had had a rough life prior to being a flight attendant. "I would like to get of this metal contraption before the damn sun raises."

"Sorry, sir. The locking mechanism is--" A loud click sounded and stopped the male mid-sentence. He laughed quietly under his breath and extended a set of metal stairs. They cackled slowly as they wiggled to the ground. "Was malfunctioning. Thank you for flying with us, Mr. Northma--"

Without a word, Eric shoved his way past the help and down the stairs. They creaked with every step he took, unstable and flimsy even before adding his built stature. Waiting for these stairs to be let down was unnecessary when he could have just as easily jump down from the plane and to the floor, landing with the catlike grace that accompanied his fangs and his supernatural strength. But the flight attendant had insisted on doing his job, so the impatient vampire stood back and ground his teeth.

It smelt like oil and exhaust in the hanger, but Eric found it more pleasing than the sterile smell of the plane. The mouth of it was open, exposing the distant runway that snaked all over a field of grass, and mountains that were even further away. The cool Western air played with the blade, making them dance in the moonlight. He smiled widely and closed his eyes, reveling in the sweet smell of nature. It reminded him of Europe. He ran his tongue over his growing fangs and imagined his past. Running through grasses that brushed as far up as his belly button, jumping from rock to rock in cold northern streams, hiding in trees as he stalked his prey, the musicians of the night creating beautiful lullabies, serenade the prey into false serenity. Things were much easier then. He could hunt man or animal without much of a qualm being sent his way. Vampires weren't mainstream and were hardly comprehended by the world at that time. The locals wrote it off as bears and wolves, having not known any better.

He wished the people of today were still as ignorant. Not only were those days easier, but more fun. With willing feeders at his disposal, the thrill of the chase was something his seldom felt anymore. To have that thrill once again would earn him burning glares from the rest of the mortals, and envious eyes from the rest of the undead.

A soft sigh made its way out of Eric's system as he opened his eyes and took in the inside of the hanger. There were small planes along the far left wall, parts of planes on the floor scattered here and there. In the corner of the hanger sat a black-on-black Charger, painted even darker by the shadows. The car was pretty and sleek, earning a small smile from Eric as he approached it. Escorts in beautiful cars--did the afterlife get any better? Over his shoulder he could hear the male flight attendant talk to the driver of the Charger, about how the air was, when the meeting was supposed to be over and whether or not the trunk was unlocked. Mortals. "Any day now," he uttered, and slid into the cab, the smell of leather enveloping him.

The mortal men conversed outside of the car. The windows were thick, tinted black to keep the sun out, but still he could see them standing there. He rapped his knuckles against the glass, catching the eye of his driver. The male dipped his head to Eric, patted the flight attendant on the shoulder, and took Eric's bags whilst heading towards the trunk.

Moments later they were off, the lights illuminating the runway slowly changing into street lights and and signs advertising strip joints and clubs and convenient stores. Eventually hotel signs were thrown into the mix. Eric's eyes instantly fell on the hotel that he had reservations in. It was the only hotel on the street with a large banner that read "VAMPIRES WELCOMED!!" He had no doubt there were people driving by the hotel and spitting, literally and figuratively. But it was almost dawn and he was hungry. For tonight, he could get over overzealous multi-species welcome banners.

It took Eric several moments to peel himself out of the cab. Though the car was attractive, it wasn't exactly _roomy_ enough for the six foot four vampire. But he said nothing as he climbed out. And he said nothing as he walked into the hotel, the driver jogging to keep up with the elder.

"I have a reservation under Eric Northman," he muttered to the receptionist, a redhead with a sloppy bun and equally sloppy make-up. If she had taken more time, or had more make-up applying skills, she would have been attractive. But she looked like a clown out of a horror film. Eric refrained from making any comments.

"Ah, yes, Mr. Northman. I thought we were expecting you earlier?" she questioned, shuffling through a drawer for, Eric guessed, his room key and a menu. Hotels like this one always gave their supernatural clients menus. Mortals had the breakfast buffet, but since vampires slept through the mornings, they had to have an all-night staff and room-service to accommodate to them. Plus, it probably made a lot of the human guests more comfortable that the vampires could simply lounge and eat in their own rooms. Personally, Eric enjoyed making the humans nauseous. But this wasn't his place; he had no rank here. So he tucked his tail down and went on with his existence.

"Storm," bluntly he said. Eric cleaned a bit of dirt out from under his nail, clicked his tongue softly, and propped himself up against the front desk. Making eye contact with the girl, he got over the gruesome sight before him and gave her a smile. "Is the bar still open? I'm a little…hungry."

Wildly she flushed, the color almost as deep and red as her hair. She looked away several times, growing a shade darker every time her eyes connected with Eric's. He could see the sparks going off in her eyes, as if she assumed that he wanted her to satisfy his craving. Simple creature. "O-Of course, Mr. Northman!" she squeaked. Embarrassed, she smoothed down her work-issued vest and looked down at the room keys in her hand. "When…When you get to your room, just dial down and we'll send you up someone. Do you have a preference?"

It looked like people in Colorado were going to be as easily manipulated as people in Louisiana. He smiled widely, each and every white tooth in his smile giving the receptionist a chill. He watched her shudder for a moment before nonchalantly replying, "No preference, really. Just alive." Willing? He would have preferred them scared out of their mind and resisting like mad, but he doubted any of their blood-bags would be good enough actors.

She smiled warily at him. "Room #214, for four nights. The bar's number is…is #1. Enjoy your stay."

"Oh, I will." With another smile, Eric began for the elevator, almost forgetting about the driver that shuffled behind him. He rubbed at his temples and pushed the up button to send for the elevator, and once inside lazily pressed the button designated for his floor. From the corner of his eye he could see the driver clinging to his luggage, trying to appear as composed as possible. If Eric hadn't noticed the sweat beading on the male's forehead, or the aroma that perfumed his entire body, he might have believed the act. It was amusing, though.

Thinking better of it, Eric exited the elevator and started for his room, lazily taking in the signs on the wall direction him. If he glamoured the driver, his employers would probably find out. Best not to do anything in Colorado that could get him in trouble. At least while he was still in the state.

At the door, he stopped the driver and took his bags, shooing him away with a flick of his wrist. The relief the man felt was tangible. Eric laughed openly at him as he jogged away. Mortals were amusing creatures. Not amusing enough to keep them as pets, though. He would get tired, he assumed, and either kill the pathetic creature or send them on their way, which would probably "break" their heart. He wasn't sure which fate was more damning. "Love", as the mortals called it, was supposedly a tricky, sometimes painful, experience. And as much as Eric liked to inflict pain on things weaker than himself, breaking a person down like that wasn't exactly his thing.

Bill and Sookie and their awkward romance flashed across his mind. Eric blanched and opened the door, stepping inside the cool, spacious room.

Everything was very modern inside the room. Prominent edges, some of them pointed enough to seriously injure oneself. Leather everywhere, on the sofa, on the chairs, on the headboard to the bed, on the walls. The blinds were closed, even at night, and the air conditioner in the back was working its heart out. Eric laughed, closing the door with his foot. Sure, it was nice, but what made mortals so sure that vampires only wanted things sleek and new and dark? He, himself, was a bit of an old-fashioned kind of guy, albeit it didn't show on his person. For a moment he toyed with the thought of an old-country themed hotel.

The bed was plush, more so than he expected. He sank into it a little, his brows knitting, before the blond stood removed himself from the pit. Until sunrise, he would lounge around the hotel room. He walked into the main area, his bags propped against the leather couch, and sat down. The smell of leather, like in the car, danced up and all around him. Who knew dead animals could smell so good?

Eric checked his watch. It was almost five, so he had about an hour or two until the sun began rising. If he didn't eat now, he would be in a horrible mood tomorrow night. With the menu is hand, he punched in #1 and leaned back in his seat. Lounging the way he was and using the phone made him think of those sex-lines that desperate mortals called so they could jerk off. He smirked and sat up.

"Front desk!" a woman chirped.

"I'd like to…order something from room service," he retorted.

"Vampire or mortal?" She sounded so collected about it. The woman had probably been with the hotel long enough to have immunity to thinking about vampires biting people.

"Vampire."

"One second."

There was a beeping sound and then quiet on-hold music. Eric rubbed his neck. When eating got this nonchalant that elevator music was involved, it had lost all of its fun. Feeding was just…feeding now. No sport anymore. He sighed.

"Bar—vampire section," a man spoke, breaking the quiet music.

The blond flipped through the menu he had been given. The first half of the menu had rules and regulations. Some of the rules involved no killing the feeders and no glamouring. Eric smirked. There was even a section about sleeping with the feeders. If the feeder was up for sex, then the vampire could go for it, but if it got too rough for the mortal he or she could call it off then and there. What, did they have a rape whistle? He laughed to himself and thumbed through the rules, only reading the ones he found amusing.

The second half was the actual feeding portion. They had it labeled off by blood type and the price; the rarer the blood type, the more it cost. Money was no object to Eric, as he wasn't paying for the hotel. The vampires that had called him out were wealthy enough, so he figured why not arrange something pricey? They would see the bill, call him, and he would just give them a laugh and a cheeky smile. "AB-, please," he answered, leaning back with the phone's cradle in his lap, "and either sex is fine."

"Just a few minutes, sir. Your feeder will be with you shortly."

"Thank you," Eric smiled. He'd feed…maybe get his rocks off and then sleep. As he hung up the phone, he sighed again. How many AB- people did they have? More male or female on staff? Like he had said, either would be fine. A guy blowing him was just as hot as a woman doing it. On second thought, it was hotter. So Eric stared at the door, willing the feeder to be male. Willing him to be the sexual type. Willing him to add some fun into the overly civilized feeding that the modern world handed to him.


	2. Chapter 2

Eric waited for five minutes before someone knocked on the door. Before he could even blink, his body had risen and bolted for the door. At that moment, standing behind the door with his hand on the knob, Eric realized how starved he was. For blood. For human contact. For sexual stimulation. He closed his eyes for a moment and prayed to any and all of the gods he didn't believe in that his feeder would allow him to touch him. And that the feeder was indeed a him. If it was a woman, he would promptly send her back. He wouldn't even bite her. She would probably think that she did something wrong and cut herself down for days and days.

That added to Eric's desire for a male feeder.

It had been so long since he had fed on a male. Just the thought made his fangs slowly appear. Men were usually more fierier than women were, or maybe it was just the feeder "profession". They weren't as whiny, either. Most women begged for their lives, or acted so corny (a lot of, "Oh, please, no...") that he almost couldn't stand it.

If Eric were alive, his heart would have been beating anxiously and his breath would have been haggard. But he wasn't, so the only signs of his emotions were his eager eyes and his teeth, which sank themselves in and out of his lips. The door felt like it was taking forever to open, as if it were six-inch thick led. Eric wrinkled his nose and pulled the knob to him. Best to get this over with.

He was pleased with what he found.

In front of his was a mortal male, Caucasian but tanned (European?), with dark brown hair and cloudy gray eyes. Eric purred in his throat. The male's muscles pressed tautly against his tight rust-orange v-neck and tight dark-washed jeans. He smelled like warmth and...man. Very, very nice. His face was pretty, too. Angular cheekbones, but not too sharp. A small beauty mark above the left corner of his calm, sexy smile. Oh, if this boy didn't let him touch him... The thought alone made Eric frustrated.

Any, and every god...please...please let him swing this way. Please, please, please.

"Mr. Northman?" the male asked. His voice was even attractive. "I'm Francesco, but you can call me Franco. Pleasure to meet you." With a smirk, he held out his hand. His smell surrounded Eric, like his hand was the moon, commanding his smell, the ocean. Waves of it hit the blond and he closed his eyes, allowing himself to revel in the smell. He took the feeder's hand and raised it to his nose, turning it over to expose his wrist. He could almost hear plump veins throbbing eagerly, anxious for Eric's fangs to be anywhere and everywhere.

"You, too," he retorted gruffly. He then tugged the male in, closing the door with a flick of his wrist. The feeder laughed and casually took in the room. "I trust you're familiar with the room? Or shall I hold your hand and walk you through it?"

Francesco laughed. Rich, sensual.

Please, oh please, let me touch you.

"The rooms are nice, s'all. I've been in a few. Not enough to 'get around', but enough to know my surroundings." Clever, too? Oh, oh, oh. All of the blood in Eric's body was rushing downwards. "So...shall we continue to play this game of cat and mouse? Does it get you off?"

"You do not know the things that get me off," was chuckled back. Eric sat down on the coffee table and watched, amused, as Franco walked behind the couch, his fingers trailing on the length of the furniture.

"I could guess, if you'd like."

Please, oh please, oh please.

"Come. Sit down." Eric patted the leather couch before him and the other male complied without so much as a word. He sat down and the smell of leather clouded up like before. It made him smell even better. Eric leaned forward. "So, Franco..." he whispered, pushing back the lush black-brown locks that flirted with his olive cheeks. "Tell me a bit about yourself. American born, or...?"

"German-born. Raised between there and Italy until I was nine. Then my family and I immigrated into the States and...found our way here. Why?" He crossed his legs and rested his intertwined fingers on his kneecap.

Foreigner. Eric smiled again. "It makes the blood taste different, being from America or from another part of the world. Europeans usually taste...richer."

"Oh, well, in that case...let's cut out this game of cat and mouse. See if I taste...European enough for you." Plump pink lips were pouted outwards. Eric wanted to bite them and never let go. Francesco dragged his index finger down Eric's own lips, and laughed when the vampire snapped teasingly at them. "I'm waiting." With wide eyes, Eric watched as Francesco extended his neck. The skin was so taunt, he could see the blood moving, could see the air working its way in and out of his body.

"No." In a flash, his teeth were in his neck. The blood flowing through the Italian-mix tasted even better than the boy, himself, smelt. Tasted better than every European male--hell, every male--that he had ever tasted. Like he was the crème de la crème of blood sources. Eric placed one hand on the boy's shoulder and the other on his waist, pulling him in. He listened tentatively, hanging onto the soft moans of pain and pleasure that escaped Franco's beautiful, beautiful mouth.

But it wasn't enough.

He removed his teeth and held his head in his hands. It wasn't enough for this attractive man to be in the room, willingly offering his blood. There would be fun, hopefully, but there wasn't any at the moment. It killed the mood.

"Wh...What's wrong?" Franco muttered. Instinctively, his hand flew to his neck wound, but his eyes didn't widen at the blood. Not enough to "get around", but...

"It's not enough. God dammit, God dammit, God dammit..."

"What's not enough? Attractive male, AB-, willing and for the taking..."

"That's just it! There's no fun in it."

Stumbling at first, Francesco rose to his feet and took a second to process what Eric had said. Despite the fact that Eric hadn't taken much blood, the loss of it made Francesco a little slower for the uptake. He interpreted the words before replying. "Fine. I'll leave, since I'm not fun enough for you, Mr. Tall Blond Vampire. What exactly are you looking for when you say 'fun'?"

"Excitement, passion, fear, no clothes," Eric listed, counting on his fingers as his own brain processed the situation. This could work in his favor. "And, while you're exciting, you're still dressed, and you're just a puppet. I say this, you do it. You act in my favor. You have no spine. No entertaining qualities about you."

He looked a little hurt, like the words had fabricated themselves into an invisible hand and slapped him. "If you want fun and naked, why don't you find a hooker? I'm no hooker, sweetheart. And I'd be a lot more expensive than you could ever afford."

Fire. There it was. The blood began its happy trek back southward. Eric stood up. "If you were a hooker, you wouldn't even stand a chance. In the world of hookers, you are dirt. Nothing."

There was a spark growing in those cloudy eyes. "What are you saying?"

"You're attractive, sweetheart, but I've seen better looking hookers in the ground." Oh, how Eric wished Franco would take the bait. They would fight for a moment or two, add some fun to the mix, and Eric would be able to feed and perform and have an amazing stay at the hotel.

"You son of a bitch!" Was he going to try and hit Eric?

Oh, please try.

"Does it make you angry? Being second--no, third rate! All you are is a feeder! There's nothing more to you. You're lower than a hooker." He laughed bitterly, fanning the flames growing beautifully beneath the mortal. For a moment, he could have sworn that they had begun snaking up Franco's crafted legs.

"I'm out of here, you son of a bitch. Fucking vampire!" He began for the door, but before he could grab at the knob, Eric had him by the throat against the door. Gray eyes widened as he flailed a bit. "Let go of me, let go of me!"

"I'm not glamouring you, or killing you, or having sex with you, and I paid for a feeding, so you can stop that right now." Why did people say not to play with the food you intended on eating? It was just so much fun. Before Francesco could counter, Eric's teeth punctured him again. The brunette fought him for a moment before giving in, his heart beating heavily, lazily. Eric's free hand snaked down the back of his jeans and squeezed hard. A strangled moan left his mouth.

"N-No," he protested weakly.

For a moment, Eric pulled back. "Are you sure?" He licked at the wound and brought his nails up one of Franco's cheeks. "Are you sure you don't want this?" He bucked his hips upward and smiled into Francesco's bleeding neck. "It'll be fun, I promise."

"I'm not a hooker," Franco protested.

With a click of his tongue, Eric placed his forehead against Eduardo's. He trailed his tongue against Francesco's lips, the mortal's own blood staining the plump organs. "No. You're so much more."

"You...You son of a bitch liar." He licked at his lips and gave a small smile.

"And you love it. See? So much more fun this way." His hand still tight around Franco's throat, the blond vampire carried his companion to the leather couch. "If I let go, will you be a good boy?" He lifted Francesco's chin and nipped at his Adam's Apple. The other nodded, so Eric let go.

He began for the door.

Eric laughed deeply and knocked him to the floor. "You lied, too. We're even." He smiled down at the other and brushed his hair back again.

"It's more fun, isn't it?"

"Oh, oh, oh. I'm going to tear your ass apart."

As Franco started laughing, Eric's teeth sheathed themselves once more, this time in the meeting spot of the boy's neck and his shoulder. His insides were burning and his pants were getting tight. If his blood tasted this great, Eric could only imagine how it would feel to be inside of him.

How great was this?

Eric slid his hand up the male's shirt and brought his nails down taut flesh. Below him, Francesco's body arched and wiggled. "Take my shirt off, take my shirt off," he huffed, his fingers pulling at the bottom of his t-shirt.

Eric lifted his body up long enough to remove both of their t-shirts. With their chests now bare, they shared their warmth as they hungrily kissed. Fangs snagged on flesh, but if it bothered the mortal, Francesco didn't complain. It wasn't even intentional and there was more blood in his mouth! Eric smiled wickedly into the kiss and gripped Francesco tighter, their lower-halves pressed so closely together that it hurt. In a good way.

Huffing and gasping for air, Francesco pulled back. "My pants, oh God, hurry the fuck up." They laughed together and feverishly went at one another's jeans. Their fingers moved so swiftly that they fumbled and slid against buttons and zippers. Eventually they got the zippers and buttons undone, and eventually they were lying in a pool of clothes, clinging to each other for life. They kissed on the floor, clawing at one another to stay connected and keep the fire between them alive.

Eric ended up on his back with Franco on top of him. The mortal rode him like a champ. Inside he was just as fiery and taut as he was on the outside. Eric could stay inside him forever and just bask in the warmth.

"Fuck, fuck me," Franco cried, his hips grinding against Eric like a pro. With the way his body moved, so sensually and fluidly, he could make millions being an exotic dancer.

It took so much inner strength and focus to keep Eric's eyes from rolling into his head. But then Eric realized: he didn't care. He needed to focus all of his power on fucking the shit out of this mortal. Show him what vampires could do.

What Eric Northman could do.

Swiftly, Eric flipped them both so that Franco was on his back with his ankles on Eric's broad shoulders. He pulled the mortal to meet him so quickly that Eric was positive that he had given him carpet burn. But the moan that he gushed out told Eric that the pleasure towered over the pain.

Eric bit the male's calf as he continued to pump in and out of him.

"God, harder."

The vampire pulled back from Francesco's calf and let his eyes lock with Francesco's own. He was panting so hard below Eric that Eric could feel the mortal's heart beat everywhere. "As you wish," Eric groaned, and did as he was asked.

- - -

"It's almost sunrise," Eric mumbled sadly, playing with Francesco's hair. They were still on the floor, painted in a sheen of cold sweat. But the smell of sex was just so...pleasing that Eric couldn't be bothered to move them into the shower. Even though that did sound appeasing...

"You need to get to bed, don't you?" Franco whispered back.

"Don't you think you ought to get back to the front desk? They're going to think I ate you."

"In more ways than one." The mortal laughed heartily for a moment before sighing loudly. He sat up and rubbed at his neck, gathering his clothes half-heartedly. "I don't want to seem clingy, but will I see you again?" At Eric's raised brow, he laughed again. "Don't flatter yourself. You're just a really, really...great fuck."

Just what he wanted to hear. He laughed back and nipped at Francesco's throat. "I'll be here a few more days. But don't get clingy. I will leave."

"And you will give me your address so I can go to wherever you are and get fucked senseless again, yeah, I know." That cheeky grin that Francesco adopted was contagious. Eric laid on his back and grinned, watching Francesco rise to his feet and begin to dress. He had dimples on his ass. Cute.

"Hm...escape without a trace or keep tabs on the half-Italian with a gorgeous ass, an amazing mouth and delicious blood...hm...hard choice." The questioning look Franco sent him sent Eric into a fit of laughter. He sat himself up, propped up by his arms, and shrugged his shoulders. "How many other AB- feeders are there here?"

"None. Just me." He winked as he fastened his pants.

"Thankfully that's my preference." Eric snapped his teeth at the mortal. "I'll see you tonight?"

"I'm not a hooker," Franco joked.

"No, you're so much more," Eric purred back. "I'll see you after my little get-together with the Sheriff around here."

"I'll be waiting." And with that, Francesco walked out the hotel room.

The vampire rose to his feet. Without collecting his clothes, he strolled to the hotel bed, humming a song from his native land under his breath. Someone needed to cause more problems in Denver, problems involving Eric's aid, because this hotel's service was to die for.

Eric waited for five minutes before someone knocked on the door. Before he could even blink, his body had risen and bolted for the door. At that moment, standing behind the door with his hand on the knob, Eric realized how starved he was. For blood. For human contact. For sexual stimulation. He closed his eyes for a moment and prayed to any and all of the gods he didn't believe in that his feeder would allow him to touch him. And that the feeder was indeed a him. If it was a woman, he would promptly send her back. He wouldn't even bite her. She would probably think that she did something wrong and cut herself down for days and days.

That added to Eric's desire for a male feeder.

It had been so long since he had fed on a male. Just the thought made his fangs slowly appear. Men were usually more fierier than women were, or maybe it was just the feeder "profession". They weren't as whiny, either. Most women begged for their lives, or acted so corny (a lot of, "Oh, please, no...") that he almost couldn't stand it.

If Eric were alive, his heart would have been beating anxiously and his breath would have been haggard. But he wasn't, so the only signs of his emotions were his eager eyes and his teeth, which sank themselves in and out of his lips. The door felt like it was taking forever to open, as if it were six-inch thick led. Eric wrinkled his nose and pulled the knob to him. Best to get this over with.

He was pleased with what he found.

In front of his was a mortal male, Caucasian but tanned (European?), with dark brown hair and cloudy gray eyes. Eric purred in his throat. The male's muscles pressed tautly against his tight rust-orange v-neck and tight dark-washed jeans. He smelled like warmth and...man. Very, very nice. His face was pretty, too. Angular cheekbones, but not too sharp. A small beauty mark above the left corner of his calm, sexy smile. Oh, if this boy didn't let him touch him... The thought alone made Eric frustrated.

Any, and every god...please...please let him swing this way. Please, please, please.

"Mr. Northman?" the male asked. His voice was even attractive. "I'm Francesco, but you can call me Franco. Pleasure to meet you." With a smirk, he held out his hand. His smell surrounded Eric, like his hand was the moon, commanding his smell, the ocean. Waves of it hit the blond and he closed his eyes, allowing himself to revel in the smell. He took the feeder's hand and raised it to his nose, turning it over to expose his wrist. He could almost hear plump veins throbbing eagerly, anxious for Eric's fangs to be anywhere and everywhere.

"You, too," he retorted gruffly. He then tugged the male in, closing the door with a flick of his wrist. The feeder laughed and casually took in the room. "I trust you're familiar with the room? Or shall I hold your hand and walk you through it?"

Francesco laughed. Rich, sensual.

Please, oh please, let me touch you.

"The rooms are nice, s'all. I've been in a few. Not enough to 'get around', but enough to know my surroundings." Clever, too? Oh, oh, oh. All of the blood in Eric's body was rushing downwards. "So...shall we continue to play this game of cat and mouse? Does it get you off?"

"You do not know the things that get me off," was chuckled back. Eric sat down on the coffee table and watched, amused, as Franco walked behind the couch, his fingers trailing on the length of the furniture.

"I could guess, if you'd like."

Please, oh please, oh please.

"Come. Sit down." Eric patted the leather couch before him and the other male complied without so much as a word. He sat down and the smell of leather clouded up like before. It made him smell even better. Eric leaned forward. "So, Franco..." he whispered, pushing back the lush black-brown locks that flirted with his olive cheeks. "Tell me a bit about yourself. American born, or...?"

"German-born. Raised between there and Italy until I was nine. Then my family and I immigrated into the States and...found our way here. Why?" He crossed his legs and rested his intertwined fingers on his kneecap.

Foreigner. Eric smiled again. "It makes the blood taste different, being from America or from another part of the world. Europeans usually taste...richer."

"Oh, well, in that case...let's cut out this game of cat and mouse. See if I taste...European enough for you." Plump pink lips were pouted outwards. Eric wanted to bite them and never let go. Francesco dragged his index finger down Eric's own lips, and laughed when the vampire snapped teasingly at them. "I'm waiting." With wide eyes, Eric watched as Francesco extended his neck. The skin was so taunt, he could see the blood moving, could see the air working its way in and out of his body.

"No." In a flash, his teeth were in his neck. The blood flowing through the Italian-mix tasted even better than the boy, himself, smelt. Tasted better than every European male--hell, every male--that he had ever tasted. Like he was the crème de la crème of blood sources. Eric placed one hand on the boy's shoulder and the other on his waist, pulling him in. He listened tentatively, hanging onto the soft moans of pain and pleasure that escaped Franco's beautiful, beautiful mouth.

But it wasn't enough.

He removed his teeth and held his head in his hands. It wasn't enough for this attractive man to be in the room, willingly offering his blood. There would be fun, hopefully, but there wasn't any at the moment. It killed the mood.

"Wh...What's wrong?" Franco muttered. Instinctively, his hand flew to his neck wound, but his eyes didn't widen at the blood. Not enough to "get around", but...

"It's not enough. God dammit, God dammit, God dammit..."

"What's not enough? Attractive male, AB-, willing and for the taking..."

"That's just it! There's no fun in it."

Stumbling at first, Francesco rose to his feet and took a second to process what Eric had said. Despite the fact that Eric hadn't taken much blood, the loss of it made Francesco a little slower for the uptake. He interpreted the words before replying. "Fine. I'll leave, since I'm not fun enough for you, Mr. Tall Blond Vampire. What exactly are you looking for when you say 'fun'?"

"Excitement, passion, fear, no clothes," Eric listed, counting on his fingers as his own brain processed the situation. This could work in his favor. "And, while you're exciting, you're still dressed, and you're just a puppet. I say this, you do it. You act in my favor. You have no spine. No entertaining qualities about you."

He looked a little hurt, like the words had fabricated themselves into an invisible hand and slapped him. "If you want fun and naked, why don't you find a hooker? I'm no hooker, sweetheart. And I'd be a lot more expensive than you could ever afford."

Fire. There it was. The blood began its happy trek back southward. Eric stood up. "If you were a hooker, you wouldn't even stand a chance. In the world of hookers, you are dirt. Nothing."

There was a spark growing in those cloudy eyes. "What are you saying?"

"You're attractive, sweetheart, but I've seen better looking hookers in the ground." Oh, how Eric wished Franco would take the bait. They would fight for a moment or two, add some fun to the mix, and Eric would be able to feed and perform and have an amazing stay at the hotel.

"You son of a bitch!" Was he going to try and hit Eric?

Oh, please try.

"Does it make you angry? Being second--no, third rate! All you are is a feeder! There's nothing more to you. You're lower than a hooker." He laughed bitterly, fanning the flames growing beautifully beneath the mortal. For a moment, he could have sworn that they had begun snaking up Franco's crafted legs.

"I'm out of here, you son of a bitch. Fucking vampire!" He began for the door, but before he could grab at the knob, Eric had him by the throat against the door. Gray eyes widened as he flailed a bit. "Let go of me, let go of me!"

"I'm not glamouring you, or killing you, or having sex with you, and I paid for a feeding, so you can stop that right now." Why did people say not to play with the food you intended on eating? It was just so much fun. Before Francesco could counter, Eric's teeth punctured him again. The brunette fought him for a moment before giving in, his heart beating heavily, lazily. Eric's free hand snaked down the back of his jeans and squeezed hard. A strangled moan left his mouth.

"N-No," he protested weakly.

For a moment, Eric pulled back. "Are you sure?" He licked at the wound and brought his nails up one of Franco's cheeks. "Are you sure you don't want this?" He bucked his hips upward and smiled into Francesco's bleeding neck. "It'll be fun, I promise."

"I'm not a hooker," Franco protested.

With a click of his tongue, Eric placed his forehead against Eduardo's. He trailed his tongue against Francesco's lips, the mortal's own blood staining the plump organs. "No. You're so much more."

"You...You son of a bitch liar." He licked at his lips and gave a small smile.

"And you love it. See? So much more fun this way." His hand still tight around Franco's throat, the blond vampire carried his companion to the leather couch. "If I let go, will you be a good boy?" He lifted Francesco's chin and nipped at his Adam's Apple. The other nodded, so Eric let go.

He began for the door.

Eric laughed deeply and knocked him to the floor. "You lied, too. We're even." He smiled down at the other and brushed his hair back again.

"It's more fun, isn't it?"

"Oh, oh, oh. I'm going to tear your ass apart."

As Franco started laughing, Eric's teeth sheathed themselves once more, this time in the meeting spot of the boy's neck and his shoulder. His insides were burning and his pants were getting tight. If his blood tasted this great, Eric could only imagine how it would feel to be inside of him.

How great was this?

Eric slid his hand up the male's shirt and brought his nails down taut flesh. Below him, Francesco's body arched and wiggled. "Take my shirt off, take my shirt off," he huffed, his fingers pulling at the bottom of his t-shirt.

Eric lifted his body up long enough to remove both of their t-shirts. With their chests now bare, they shared their warmth as they hungrily kissed. Fangs snagged on flesh, but if it bothered the mortal, Francesco didn't complain. It wasn't even intentional and there was more blood in his mouth! Eric smiled wickedly into the kiss and gripped Francesco tighter, their lower-halves pressed so closely together that it hurt. In a good way.

Huffing and gasping for air, Francesco pulled back. "My pants, oh God, hurry the fuck up." They laughed together and feverishly went at one another's jeans. Their fingers moved so swiftly that they fumbled and slid against buttons and zippers. Eventually they got the zippers and buttons undone, and eventually they were lying in a pool of clothes, clinging to each other for life. They kissed on the floor, clawing at one another to stay connected and keep the fire between them alive.

Eric ended up on his back with Franco on top of him. The mortal rode him like a champ. Inside he was just as fiery and taut as he was on the outside. Eric could stay inside him forever and just bask in the warmth.

"Fuck, fuck me," Franco cried, his hips grinding against Eric like a pro. With the way his body moved, so sensually and fluidly, he could make millions being an exotic dancer.

It took so much inner strength and focus to keep Eric's eyes from rolling into his head. But then Eric realized: he didn't care. He needed to focus all of his power on fucking the shit out of this mortal. Show him what vampires could do.

What Eric Northman could do.

Swiftly, Eric flipped them both so that Franco was on his back with his ankles on Eric's broad shoulders. He pulled the mortal to meet him so quickly that Eric was positive that he had given him carpet burn. But the moan that he gushed out told Eric that the pleasure towered over the pain.

Eric bit the male's calf as he continued to pump in and out of him.

"God, harder."

The vampire pulled back from Francesco's calf and let his eyes lock with Francesco's own. He was panting so hard below Eric that Eric could feel the mortal's heart beat everywhere. "As you wish," Eric groaned, and did as he was asked.

- - -

"It's almost sunrise," Eric mumbled sadly, playing with Francesco's hair. They were still on the floor, painted in a sheen of cold sweat. But the smell of sex was just so...pleasing that Eric couldn't be bothered to move them into the shower. Even though that did sound appeasing...

"You need to get to bed, don't you?" Franco whispered back.

"Don't you think you ought to get back to the front desk? They're going to think I ate you."

"In more ways than one." The mortal laughed heartily for a moment before sighing loudly. He sat up and rubbed at his neck, gathering his clothes half-heartedly. "I don't want to seem clingy, but will I see you again?" At Eric's raised brow, he laughed again. "Don't flatter yourself. You're just a really, really...great fuck."

Just what he wanted to hear. He laughed back and nipped at Francesco's throat. "I'll be here a few more days. But don't get clingy. I will leave."

"And you will give me your address so I can go to wherever you are and get fucked senseless again, yeah, I know." That cheeky grin that Francesco adopted was contagious. Eric laid on his back and grinned, watching Francesco rise to his feet and begin to dress. He had dimples on his ass. Cute.

"Hm...escape without a trace or keep tabs on the half-Italian with a gorgeous ass, an amazing mouth and delicious blood...hm...hard choice." The questioning look Franco sent him sent Eric into a fit of laughter. He sat himself up, propped up by his arms, and shrugged his shoulders. "How many other AB- feeders are there here?"

"None. Just me." He winked as he fastened his pants.

"Thankfully that's my preference." Eric snapped his teeth at the mortal. "I'll see you tonight?"

"I'm not a hooker," Franco joked.

"No, you're so much more," Eric purred back. "I'll see you after my little get-together with the Sheriff around here."

"I'll be waiting." And with that, Francesco walked out the hotel room.

The vampire rose to his feet. Without collecting his clothes, he strolled to the hotel bed, humming a song from his native land under his breath. Someone needed to cause more problems in Denver, problems involving Eric's aid, because this hotel's service was to die for.

- - -

**About the sex scene**: I'm sorry I didn't go into as much detail as I usually would. I didn't feel like...I wasn't entirely comfortable, which is weird for me, but, yeah. Maybe next time? I should be writing an Eric/Godric one soon! (: Stay tuned and thanks for reading my two-shot.


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